


C.E.

by Jubalii



Series: London Nights [5]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Post-Canon, Post-Mission, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission, Seras and Alucard have a little bet about whether or not she can hypnotize him. Maybe he should have thought this one over a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	C.E.

            Seras was a level-headed girl. That’s why she had enjoyed police work so much. The jurisdiction stuff—lawyers and judges, theory and the whole “innocent until proven guilty” thing had never worked for her. She enjoyed good, old-fashioned police work: dealing in crime scene evidence and cold hard facts, working overtime while undercover or on stakeouts, catching the criminal red-handed with proof to back it up… yes, that was the life for her.

            In fact, she was level-headed enough that some things came hard for her. She had a pretty good imagination, in her own biased opinion. She could indulge in fantasy and daydreams, during slow days when such things tickled her fancy. But she had a clear understanding of physics, and how the world worked. In her mind gravity, propulsion, and the laws of nature were fixed, unbending rules which governed the world and brought order to life. They were cold, hard facts, just like police work.

            This made a few things rather impossible. She was willing to believe that vampires, werewolves, and other creatures existed. She was **not** willing to believe that she could turn into a bat whenever she felt like it. She was willing to believe that she could use shadows as thrust in order to fly through the air like a bird. She was **not** willing to believe that she could walk up the side of a wall as if gravity had suddenly never existed.

It made Alucard mad at her, especially since she was supposed to be a “fully formed, independent being” now that she’d drank blood from him and freed herself. Of course, it had also made him mad that she told him his blood tasted sour, which apparently was some sort of insult. She hadn’t understood why; it wasn’t like she said she didn’t _like_ the taste. It had actually reminded her of wine—sour and burning as it went down, but it made her feel giddy afterwards.

But, as she plainly informed him (she’d stopped being politically correct about two weeks after he returned; there was no cause for it after thirty years of saying whatever the hell she wanted to), some people could snap their fingers, and some people could whistle, while others couldn’t no matter how hard they tried. She was just one of the people in the world who couldn’t stand on the ceiling.

“That makes no sense, Police Girl. All you have to do is _walk_ up there, and believe that you won’t fall, and you won’t.”

“Easy for you to say,” she’d answered sensibly as she’d walked away from the wall he’d been pointing at. “You once believed the world was flat.”

* * *

 

Seras had never been into one of these types of fancy joints, as she called them in her mind. Even now, she wasn’t technically _in_ it, only standing on the ceiling watching the people move about the floor. No, that wasn’t correct either—Alucard was standing on the ceiling, and she was sort of held there, suspended in his arms.

She had never been happier that there was no blood circulating in her body to rush to her head. Even if that damn livor mortis or whatever-the-hell it was meant that the blood _pooled_ in her head, it didn’t rush there and she didn’t feel lightheaded. The only thing that happened was her face turned red and purple, which faded within a half-hour after being turned right-side up. Even that was rare, since it took a few hours in the same position to make the blood start pooling anywhere, and she moved often enough.

So there they were, beneath (or rather, above) the shimmering lights of the gigantic glass chandelier, watching the humans milling about below. This was one of those high-society VIP clubs that Sir Integra could probably get into without a problem, should she have ever wanted to leave the manor.

Seras watched the women in black scarves and red dresses sitting on velvet cushions, with their male counterparts in black and white tuxedos with slicked back hairstyles standing or sitting by their sides. The white tablecloths and fine wine, swirling purple-red in the crystal glasses, mesmerized her. This was a forbidden world, one that she would have never known about if she had stayed a policewoman and had never met Alucard.

They were standing high on the arched ceiling, near the base of the chandelier. Seras could have reached out and touched the first tier of tinkling crystals that formed the rings around the lights. The humans wouldn’t look up and see them—they were too involved with what was going on near them, at their tables or on the dance floor where couples swayed to classical, jazzy music.

The humans couldn’t hear them either, which was a plus. Without a bond bridging their minds, they had to resort to physical language, or speak to each other normally. Alucard wasn’t one to chat about things on a mission, but if Seras managed to get him started on a topic, they could talk for hours. And it might be hours—they’d been there a good portion of the night, but their target hadn’t arrived yet.

Seras was already tired of hanging upside down. Alucard’s arm, which was the only thing that kept her from falling into the crowd below and landing on some poor waiter’s pushcart, was like a steel band and it was biting into her diaphragm. Her hair was hanging out of her face, but her legs were very uncomfortable.

If she pulled them up, her upper body bit further into his arm. But if she braced her legs against the ceiling, she had to lean back against him and her body slipped down until her breasts were squished against his forearm. Either way, it was either too uncomfortable or too intimate, so she was stuck trying to find a compromise between the two of them.

As such she’d been squirming and squirming, and finally had given up, hoping to God that he wouldn’t mind her boobs being shoved against his arm for the remainder of the night. If only their target would hurry up and make an appearance! The target’s date had arrived some time before, but he’d simply sat in a booth reserved for the most expensive patrons and lit a cigar, seemingly unfazed that he was alone in a room full of couples.

Fingers skirted the edge of her uniform jacket, which had decided to properly obey gravity and was riding up her stomach along with the tee-shirt beneath. They brushed across her exposed skin, fleeting enough that it felt almost like an innocent mistake. And the first time it had happened, that’s exactly what Seras had thought it was, the same way someone bumps into your breasts or accidently brushes your rear when they walk by.

But it had happened again, and Seras had looked up at Alucard. Sometimes he enjoyed playing games with her, doing things he knew she didn’t approve of just to watch her get mad. Once she caught the gist of his little tricks, she had quickly learned that if you pretended that you didn’t care, you took away the reward. That usually made the behavior stop, although it made Seras feel like she was dealing with a little kid, or maybe a trained lab monkey on his worst nights.

To her surprise, Alucard didn’t even seem to notice her. He had his sunglasses on to cut the glare from the chandelier, and he was staring out at the crowds with a neutral expression. He was neither smiling nor frowning, and he looked as if he were merely lost in thought. Seras wondered briefly if Alucard daydreamed; he had to, didn’t he? Most people did, even if they weren’t really thinking about anything fantastical.

She couldn’t imagine him indulging in any sort of aimless wandering within the confines of his own mind; more than likely he was just thinking about what he would do when he got home, or even more likely, mentally griping about how long the target was taking to appear just like she was.

Now, here was the third time his fingers had carelessly brushed over her stomach. This time, Seras had no doubts that it was an intentional touch. He kept touching the same place each time, and even if he wasn’t looking at her he obviously wanted her attention to be on him. He had a very good poker face—she’d seen it before, many times.

Her first reaction was to smack his hand away. But that was probably what he wanted—her anger amused him to no end, for some odd reason. He seemed to enjoy making women angry at him; he’d cut Sir Integra a break since he’d returned after his thirty-year absence, but that only meant he bothered Seras more and more to make up for it.

Her second reaction was to ignore it. It was like flipping a coin—she had a 50/50 chance. He might stop, and he might not. It all depended on his mood, how effectively she managed to ignore him, how long it took before he grew bored again, etc. It was a tame move, but one that had its own set of consequences. If he kept on, it wouldn’t be long before she would have to make the same choice again.

Her third reaction was to retaliate; not with anger, but with an “accidental” touch of her own. This was the most dangerous of all the choices she had. It was like pouring gasoline near a lit match—if she got too close, she’d be in the fire in no time. Again, it all had to do with his mood. It wasn’t an option she chose often, simply because of the cautions she had to take with him, and the unpredictable results that occurred from such behavior.

But it was an option she felt compelled to choose more and more often, especially the past few weeks. It was as if he was letting her choose exactly what she wanted to happen between them; such power, given to her by such a man, immediately made her wary of his true intentions. She wasn’t an idiot—he wouldn’t grace her with such influence unless he wanted something.

And it wasn’t as if she didn’t know what that “something” was. It was what every boy wanted, from the time they turned thirteen up until the day they died. The officials at the orphanage had tried to stop such “things” from happening.

“Abstinence until marriage!” they proclaimed, talking about conscientious choices and being proper in the eyes of God, and all the other crazy stuff no preteen kid will ever sit around and listen to willingly. No, the kids at the orphanage got their sex education from the older kids, who were not yet eighteen and eligible to leave the relative safety of the orphanage gates for the outside world.

            “Make him work for it.” That was the quote Seras, and all the other girls, had learned from these older, wiser models of women that she strived to be one day. These girls taught them about feminine power, about holding men on the ropes, making them beg and plead and offer the world before finally getting what they wanted.

            Of course, not all men wanted just sex. Some of them were nice men who wanted a relationship. But, the girls always said, they’ll take what you give them. Keep the ball in your court until they surrender. It was a whole new meaning on “courtship”. Even if they had something long-term in mind, it was still on the “ends to achieve” list for most men.

            It amused Seras that someone as ancient and powerful as Alucard could have something in common with a modern day, snot-nosed, pimply teenager. But after he returned from his soul-killing holiday, and especially after she stopped being his servant, he had seemed to take a special interest in her.

He would stare at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, or he’d say something that was a clear innuendo, or he’d brush up against her when they were stuffed in a tiny lift in desperate need of repair, dispatching Ghouls that had fallen in the shaft. Sometimes, she could swear he launched into ridiculous theatrics dispatching enemies just because she was there (although that was iffy—he seemed to have a rather odd affinity for being ridiculously theatric when dispatching anything, really).

All this she had taken note of and ignored with the natural-born grace and indifference of the feminine form. It only seemed to make him more intent on forcing her to admit that she _had_ noticed it, mostly in the form of more touching and brushing and shouting and turning shadows into bats whenever he felt like it was time for his grand appearance.

 _Do you need me to do something, ma cher?_ The Captain, her eternal ghostly companion, sounded thoroughly disgusted with the vampire’s salacious attitude. It was highly funny to Seras, who had of course known the man when he was alive and had heard stories of the trail of broken hearts the mercenary had left behind him.

 _What’s the matter, Pip?_ She hadn’t used his first name when he was alive, but after living more than thirty years with someone in your head, you quickly move to a first name basis. He still enjoyed teasing her with cutesy little pet names, but she allowed him this. After all, they were good friends, even if he was nothing more than a soul inside her mind.

He spent most of his time protecting Sir Integra, and the entire manor. He kept track of who was in and out of the house at all times, and since he never really had to “sleep”, he was pretty damn good at his job. He did rest more after Alucard’s return, under the assumption that if anything was to happen Alucard would step in and protect his master. This made Seras happy, because she knew that 24/7 surveillance exhausted the captain even if he did enjoy it. He called it “work”; she called it “being nosy”.

 _What’s the matter?!_ he sputtered, his tone incredulous. _Pour l’amour de Dieu, he’s practically fondling you and you’re just standing there!_ Seras bit back a laugh at his expense. He sounded so angry about it! She smirked and her chest jerked slightly as she chuckled, unable to hold it in any longer. Alucard heard the sound and she felt his eyes on her, but didn’t look back at him. She kept her eyes focused on the target’s date, who was on his third cigar.

 _Do you see me complaining?_ She replied teasingly, and felt his irritation spike at her words. _I can handle myself, capitaine._ She pulled her horrible French accent on him, knowing he hated it, and he snarled quietly in the back of her mind.

 _How do you like that?_ He muttered sullenly. _I go for a mere kiss and I’m nearly punched, but **he** can grope all he wants and you don’t say a word. _There was silence, and then, _What’s he got that I don’t?_

 _Besides a body?_ Seras replied matter-of-factly, and then winced when she felt his hurt. Maybe that was overstepping some boundaries…. _Fangs._

 _Fangs?! So you only like him because he’s a vampire, is that it?_ Seras bit her lip; if she laughed again, Alucard would know that something was up. The last thing she needed was him prying about her conversations with her familiar.

 _No, but it helps. Sad as it is, I’m not a human anymore. I wasn’t when we met, so it was already… you know… not meant to be._ He was disappointed, she could tell. Even if he didn’t have a body anymore, she had always guessed that he had a crush on her and that had spilled over into his afterlife as well. _Don’t worry,_ she joked, trying to make him laugh, _I’m sure that one day, you’ll find a nice lady haunting an abandoned house somewhere, and you can court her._

This did get a chuckle, but it was still laced with melancholy. She sighed; she didn’t want to deal with this right now, not when there was a mission to focus on. _Pip, go back and bother Sir Integra._

 _She’s in bed,_ he responded dully. _Well, she’s asleep, anyway. She fell asleep at her desk again._ Seras rolled her eyes. She’d been arguing with Sir Integra about doing that; it made the arthritis in her neck flare when she slept doubled over her work. And it wasn’t good for her to be pushing herself so hard, but she just _would not_ give it up!

 _Well go back and wake her up! Either make her go to bed, or talk to her so that she stays awake until I get home and make her go. Even if she shoots you, don’t give up._ He didn’t make a sound, but in her mind’s eye she could see him standing there, his shoulders rolling in a shrug as he lit a cigarette.

 _Alright, but she’ll be angry with both of us. You know her._ He paused uncertainly for a moment. _Even if you think you have it under control… if he moves in to overpower you, I’ll rip him to bloody shreds. Don’t think I won’t, just because I don’t have a body anymore._

 _I know I can trust you to be my backup,_ she assured him affectionately. _No matter what._

 _You better believe it, mignonette._ And with that, he was gone. Seras turned her mind back to the soiree going on below, but she had a feeling that Pip would be checking in on her during the night like a protective parent. She didn’t doubt him for a second; if Alucard stepped out of line, even if he didn’t have a chance in Hell in stopping him, Pip wouldn’t hesitate. She knew what he would do; if he couldn’t get him off himself, he’d run to the one person who could order him—Sir Integra.

            She started in alarm as Alucard jabbed her in the ribs with one finger. She glared at him, but he just nodded in the direction of the floor in silence. She followed his gaze to see that the man had been joined by their target at last.

            “That’s her?” she whispered in disbelief. This vampiress was powerful, and while humans may not pay attention, it would be easier for her to overhear them. This vampire was the quintessential Greek goddess. Her long blonde hair spilled down her back, her skin was porcelain and looked smooth to the touch, and Seras didn’t have to be standing next to her to know that this vampiress had proportioned curves _much_ better than her own.

            “Undoubtedly,” Alucard murmured in reply. They both watched the target laughing with her date, politely avoiding the food and instead ordering a glass of wine. “Blends in well, doesn’t she?” he added jeeringly. “She’s much prettier than you, Police Girl.”

            “Thanks for informing me,” Seras growled bitterly, wanting to slap the goofy grin off his face. Didn’t he have any manners left in that big head of his? You didn’t tell a girl that someone else was prettier than she was! “Let me go—I’m going to clear the room,” she ordered, pushing at his arms.

            He obeyed and she dropped like a rock, having been upside-down so long that she’d nearly forgotten where they were. She gasped and he caught her before she slid all the way, his fingers gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. She put a hand over her heart—even though it didn’t be anymore, it still flipped when he let go.

            “Ugh!” she snarled, twisting in his grasp. “You _know_ what I meant!”

* * *

            “You want me to do _what_?” the maître d’ asked in alarm. Seras set her jaw, refusing to look into his eyes. Instead, she looked at his sparse pencil mustache. If she looked him in the eyes, she might feel sympathy for the poor man. After all, he was only doing his job.

            “You need to get every one of your patrons out of there, save the blonde woman at table eleven,” Seras repeated in a calm, nearly deadpan tone. “Don’t worry about your job; it’s on authority.”

            “Whose authority?!” the maître d’ squeaked, long fingers tugging at the towel he held in his hands. Seras bit her cheek, taking a deep breath. “You don’t understand,” the maître d’ continued. “I can’t just move hundreds of well-paying—”

            “No, _you_ don’t understand, sir.” She used her authoritative voice, the one that ordered troops and made the young RTC Knights’ knees tremble. “That woman is a highly-skilled murderer (not too off the mark) who has killed many humans (also true) and has no intention of stopping.” The man’s face paled and fear flitted across his brow.

            “W-what?” he sputtered, looking through the cracked door at the partygoers within. “Table eleven; the Aphrodite-like beauty with the blonde hair?” he clarified, and she nodded solemnly. “No, that can’t be,” he insisted. Seras raised a brow.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I’ve been head of this gentleman’s club for nearly twenty years, and Mademoiselle Lapointe is a regular. She’s never given us trouble, and for as long as I’ve served her she’s been in a class all her own.”

            “I’ll agree with you on that,” Seras conceded. “She’s in a class all her own.” _A class of vampires_ , she thought grimly. _Poor humans never guessed it; how could they? Lapointe is an older vampiress. She’s well-trained in the art of seduction and hunting a nightly meal is child’s play for her._ Hellsing’s documentation on her had shown that much, not counting what Alucard knew retroactively about the tall, gorgeous blonde.

            “Still, I need you to clear out the room.” The maître d’ shook his head, lips pursing.

            “You still don’t comprehend what you’re asking me to do!” he whined, and Seras felt a pang of annoyance in her right temple, the start of a fast migraine. Did this guy do anything other than complain? “ _How_ am I supposed to move all these patrons out? Where am I going to put them? How will I compensate them for their troubles, and on top of _that_ ; how am I going to clear a room without your target getting suspicious?”

            Seras shook her head. She hated resorting to it, but without using her powers this guy would be bellyaching all night long without doing a damn thing. She looked him in the eyes for the first time, and saw his reaction to her scarlet eyes. His eyebrows rose, mouth opening in an impolite gasp as he stared at her. She smiled, softening her gaze with all the expertise and seductive prowess she had at hand. She was in a class of her own too, after all.

            “Listen,” she murmured, the tips of her fingers barely skating the edges of his face and coming to rest with her palm on his chin. She half turned, giving him a good view of her hips as she leaned forward, her top riding down over her breasts. He went slack jawed, eyes glazing as he fell easily and completely into her power. Her smile turned into a more triumphant expression, and she stepped closer. “It’s perfectly alright.”

            “Perfectly alright,” he agreed in a slow, slightly slurred voice.

            “Just clear out the guests for me,” she ordered, fingers tightening the slightest bit on his chin. He nodded, though the gesture became something of a woozy, tipsy motion as his eyes never left hers.

            “I’ll clear out the guests for you,” he said in a polite way, cheerful and seemingly eager to please.

            “Great!” she chirped, letting go and turning to head back to the shadowy corridor where Alucard was waiting. “I’ll leave it to you then.”

            “Just leave it to me,” he whispered to thin air, before shaking his head slightly. She turned and watched as he rubbed his forehead, looking around in confusion and missing her among the strolling patrons of the club. He frowned and then turned to the phone, picking it up and dialing, expression grave. Staff began abandoning their posts to come to his podium and Seras left, a slinking shadow missed by all who were too inattentive to notice.

            “What an annoying piece of vermin,” Alucard snarled in her ear, once she was safely in the shade. “If he hadn’t insisted on disputing every detail, we could have had this finished by now.” She couldn’t make him out against the other shadows, but she felt his presence looming over her like a vulture. An oversized, cynical vulture with an incredibly dated sense of fashion.

            “I didn’t notice,” Seras remarked dryly. “I guess I’m so used to _you_ acting that way that I didn’t give it a moment’s thought.” There was a long, scathing silence and she preened herself with a smug grin.

            “Or perhaps you were just too busy flaunting every inch of your body like an alleyway tart.” Her hair bristled and she wished she could see where he was in the hallway so that she could punch him. How dare he say that! “You didn’t have to put it on so thick,” he added. “Your power is enough that you didn’t have to touch him to make him obey.”

            “ _Humph_.” She crossed her arms. “Jealous.” Her accusation hung in the air between them.

            “Of what?” he replied coldly, and then she saw his body forming from the wall in the corner of her eye. She didn’t look at him fully, her pride still stinging from the “tart” remark. “I’ve been a female before and it’s nothing to pine for, I assure you.”

            “No!” Seras scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re jealous that I don’t let _you_ get a good eyeful.”

            “Please,” he laughed, the sound cutting her nerves like a knife. “I can look at you whenever I want. Not that I’d want to.” She bit back a snarl; so it was a fight he wanted? No—no, she wasn’t going to drop to his level. She’d give him a taste of what-for, but she wasn’t going to debase herself with an immature squabble; it’s not like they were a couple of children.

            “You _are_ jealous. You’re jealous that I don’t talk to you in that tone.” She turned on him, arms still crossed tightly over her chest. She swayed her hips slightly as she walked towards him, one eyebrow arching. It was the same way he looked at her long ago, when she refused to drink and lied about how much it really affected her.

            “Is that right?” he retorted, not taking the bait.

            “It’s right,” she answered, a grin forming slowly on her face. “You’re jealous of what other men are getting from me; I bet it drives you insane, doesn’t it?” Her voice was a mere whisper now, more for effect than for diverting attention. It was one of the very first tricks the older girls at the orphanage had divulged.

            Part of her was flabbergasted that she was acting this way. Half her mind was filled with the reasons why tempting him was _not_ a good thing at all: _He’s probably seen scores of women who not only look better than you, but have spent centuries learning how to be a better seductress. He’s temperamental, too; one wrong move and he’s liable to drop you from the ceiling and not catch you this time. Not to mention that he’s the 600-year-old, near-omnipotent king of the vampires and you’re just a tiny, insignificant police girl who **used** to be his servant! _

            And this grounded half of her mind made a very good argument; its logic was intact. But the other half of her mind didn’t seem to care. _So what? He’s as good as said that he wants you. It’s all about reeling him in, and then showing him up. Let him figure it out for himself; you’re not a sniveling little fledgling vampire anymore. You’ve grown into your new body and you know how to use it._

 _No!_ Her logical side argued. _He’ll play along until he gets what he wants, but then where are you? He’ll go off to the next interesting woman, and you’ll be left all alone in the dust. Aren’t you afraid? If you lose him, who else is there to be with? Integra is fine, but she’s only human and her days are numbered; Pip is here, but he’s just a shadow of his former self in the most literal sense. You hardly know any other vampires besides the rare few you’ve encountered and didn’t have a reason to kill; face it, Alucard is the closest thing you ever had to a real friend, or a companion at the very least._

 _All the better to get closer acquainted with him,_ her more alluring side replied. _Beneath the shadows and centuries, at his very core he’s still a man. And women throughout history have been known for playing the role of man’s downfall. Why not embrace it? It’s what we do best; kings have thrown away every asset they’ve owned for the love of a woman. Why can’t this king do the same?_

 _Because he’s a monster!_ Her logical side cried indignantly. _A heartless monster! Everyone knows it, even you! They all call him that, and he never denies it either!_

 _He’s a monster, yes_. Her seductive side softened. _But he’s not heartless. You and I know he’s got a heart. We’ve seen it enough through his ribs when he gets torn apart._ The logical side cringed at the horrible joke, but that didn’t stop her. _It’s broken; you know that. And I’m not going to say that it’s up to us to fix it, because it’s most likely beyond fixing at this point. But if we can soften the pain a little, wouldn’t it be nice?_

            Seras hated feeling so torn, when she was used to being in full agreement with herself. After all, in a life-or-death profession like police work, it helped to believe in your instincts. But now her instincts were pulling her in opposite directions—her feminine wiles wanted her to try her luck, but her self-protecting motives wanted her to stay a safe distance away.

            Her wavering resolve must have shown in her eyes, because Alucard’s expression changed from irate and impatient to skeptical and inquisitive.

            “Police Girl, what _are_ you thinking about?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. She shook her head after a moment, winking slyly at him as she threw her inner struggle aside for the moment. She could tease him now, and worry later. It’s not like she was going to jump him in a public hallway, in any case.

            “Now, now,” she purred wickedly, “don’t change the subject.” His brow furrowed, but the uncertainty didn’t fully leave his gaze. He hid it well with a smirk as he leaned over her, boxing her in.

            “You should be grateful you’re not the gambling type, Police Girl,” he purred back, matching her tone. “You are the farthest thing from driving me insane; as for what other men are getting from you….” He paused, looking her over. “What’s the use of being angry, when I’d get nothing either way?”

            “Lying doesn’t become you,” she goaded, barely squashing her triumphant laugh when his smile faded and he glared at her crossly. _Oh, did I make you angry?_ she thought with a cruel sense of satisfaction. She felt Pip’s questioning prod in the back of her mind, but brushed him away. Now was not the time; she needed all her focus to be on the irritating, yet irresistible man before her. The one renting space in her head could wait until later.

            “You call me a liar?” he growled, warning her with his voice that she was beginning to try his patience. Ten years ago, that might have made her stop entirely, or at least second-guess how far she was willing to take this. But he’d been gone thirty years, and when he’d returned she’d never gotten back into the habit of obeying him completely. She might let matters rest to keep from getting her limbs broken, but she wasn’t a little coward like she’d been when she’d first met him. Somehow, he managed to both resent her and respect her for it.

            “You did lie. Those men don’t get _nothing_ from me,” she corrected him pretentiously. “In fact, I think you would like what they “get” very much,” she declared, moving even closer and ignoring the way his arms were caging her in with her back against the wall.

“After all, they get to have a very pretty young lady touching them, like this,” she explained, tracing his jawline with her fingertips. He leaned forward only slightly, his frown even more pronounced. She stared into his eyes, admiring the varying hues that made up the crimson irises. “A few even get a kiss,” she admitted, her voice dropping another octave, “if they need some extra persuasion.”

“Do you honestly think you’re strong enough to mesmerize me?” he asked scornfully, but the smoldering look in his eyes told her he wasn’t completely against her trying, or at least the idea of what she was suggesting. She gave a half-shrug.

“If you permitted me to,” she responded smoothly. “You just might like it,” she added playfully.

“Well, why don’t we just try it sometime?” he replied, the sarcastic edge to his words at odds with his body language, which was practically urging her to touch him again. They were nose to nose, and Seras didn’t need to be connected to his mind to know that she held every aspect of his focus. He wasn’t even paying attention to where they were anymore.

“I would, but I’d hate to come off as a—how did you put it?—an _alleyway tart_ ,” she stated, every word pure ice. She ducked beneath his arm, feeling an aura of fury roll off him as her words sank in. She knew he hated when someone used his words against him, and she half-expected him to grab her and break her arm for being such a disrespectful bitch. But he didn’t touch her (yet), and she turned to look him over, one hand on her hip.

“Come on. They should have the main room cleared out by now, and I’m ready to go home.” She pulled her gun out of its holster and readied it, her face cool and passive. “Let’s end this already.”

“Yes, it’s high time to put an end to this,” he agreed, and she knew that he didn’t mean their mission.

* * *

“Ugh! Dammit!” Seras slammed the topmost drawer to her chest-of-drawers and crossed her arms. Pip, who was engaged in smoking while floating around the ceiling—one of his newer habits—looked down at her inquisitively.

“Problem, _Cherie_?” She scowled up at him.

“Those lazy laundry girls didn’t clean my pajamas!” she complained up at him. “And if they did, they didn’t fold them and put them away! Now I have nothing to wear to bed.” Pip shrugged and continued to wind slowly around the ceiling lamp.

“Do like everyone else and sleep in the buff,” he suggested apathetically. She wrinkled her nose.

“You are no help,” she declared. “Go away and leave me alone; if I do have to sleep naked, then you’re not going to see it.” Pip leered at her with a wink before obediently dissolving with a cheerful “Adieu”. Seras was determined to find _something_ to sleep in, pulling out every drawer and even throwing open the bureau where she kept her civilian clothing. She dug around, throwing clothes hangers everywhere.

Finally, she resurfaced with a silken dress shirt. She’d gotten the shirt a few sizes too big (during a time when oversized clothing was “cool”) and now it had hung at the back of the bureau for ages, unused and forgotten. She sighed and held it up to her body, looking in the mirror with a frown. She would rather have had her comfortable cotton pajamas, but perhaps silk rubbing against her skin wouldn’t be _too_ distracting. It was better than nude, anyway.

She hopped in the shower, washing the stench of ash and gunpowder off her body. That bitch had grappled with her, and they’d both rolled around on the ground of that _exclusive_ gentleman’s club. If it was anything, it was exclusively filthy; once you got to ground level, there were cigarette butts and spilled wine under every table, not to mention the _other_ fluids most likely staining that plush carpet. It was revolting.

She scrubbed herself until she felt clean, and once the unholy terror of the unknown filth was washed down the drain she felt tired and ready for bed. She dried her hair and body with her shadows, pulling on a clean pair of panties before throwing the dress shirt over her shoulders. She buttoned it up, looking again at herself in the mirror. The shirt was long enough that it barely covered her rear, but no one (that mattered) was going to see her looking like this. Still, Pip was still hanging out in her head and she heard him give a teasing wolf-whistle at her reflection.

“Go away!” she hissed at him, and he laughed loudly in her mind. “Peeping Tom!”

“I’m not _peeping_!” he argued. “I’m just seeing what you see! If you were naked, then that’s a different story…” She growled threateningly and he shut up, taking the hint. She shook her head; sometimes living with a man constantly there was very annoying. At least when he retreated to a corner, he could cut himself off from her and give them both some alone time. Otherwise, life would get unbearable fast; she needed her privacy, and although he didn’t admit it she knew he needed the same.

She walked out of the bathroom with every intention of crawling into her bed and burying beneath her sheets for some well-needed shuteye. Sir Integra had allowed the bed to be a replacement for her coffin if Seras promised to drink blood at least once a night. The heiress hadn’t needed to make her promise, though; after the attacks, Seras had started to regularly drink blood. Something about what she’d gone through had taken away the nagging feeling that drinking would be the end of something inside of her.

A movement on her bed had her giving a yelp of alarm and retreating a few paces to the doorway of the bathroom, one hand grasping for the doorknob while the other was busy tugging down the hem of the oversized shirt. Of course, this defeated the purpose of the action, as the minute her fingers lost their grip on the sleek fabric it sprang back up and gave more of an eyeful than anyone would have seen otherwise.

“W-what the hell!” she shrieked, too surprised to be really angry. Alucard, instead of taking his normal place at her table, had for some reason decided that he’d wait for her on the bed. He’d been sitting at the foot of the mattress, and had turned to her when she’d entered. Not expecting to see anyone, her instincts had kicked in at the miniscule movement.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she said quickly, forcing her muscles to relax. A blush stained her cheeks as she realized she’d squealed like a little girl being tormented on the playground. He didn’t answer straightaway, or even take the golden opportunity to tease her relentlessly, and she peered through her bangs at him to see what the matter was.

His gaze was locked on the hem of her shirt, but it slowly roamed down her exposed legs, and then back up her body until his eyes met hers. He sat up straighter, his hand resting on his knee as she stood transfixed in the doorway, her body not responding to her brain’s fierce orders to move some way, _any_ way.

“You are not wearing your usual nightclothes,” he said slowly, as if he was just processing this thought himself. His voice was a low hum that barely rose above a whisper, but she could hear it just as loud as if he’d shouted it at the top of his lungs. His eyes never left hers, the light in their depths burning far brighter than it had in the darkened hallway of the club. She gulped, something akin to fear igniting in her chest at the hungry expression.

“No,” she replied, finding that she could barely pull enough air into her lungs to speak. It was as if the tension between them was sucking up all the oxygen from the room. “I—the laundry workers didn’t—I haven’t gotten my pajamas back from upstairs yet,” she stammered.

She shut the bathroom door, finally letting go of the doorknob, but stayed with her back against the cool wooden surface. It was the only thing grounding her at the moment. She inhaled, searching for something more to say but coming up short. She wanted to just ignore what she felt, but at the same time… hadn’t this been what the entire night—no, _every_ night since his return been building up to?

She’d felt his touches, and listened to his crude jokes and mocking behavior. And before that, she’d felt his eyes on her time and time again. Damn the logic of it—there _was_ no logic to it. Her instincts had one ultimate conclusion to all this nonsense, and it was staring her in the face.

“What do you want?” she blurted, hands touching the smooth wood of her door. If this had been some romance novel, or even a really cheap porno, he’d have stood and said something along the lines of “You know what I want”. He’d start ripping off his clothes and have her pinned to the door within three seconds.

As it was, he didn’t move a muscle. His lips curved in a small frown and wrinkles appeared between his eyebrows. It was the expression he donned when he was trying to figure her out; when she said or did something that went so far against his own exploits that he had to stop and contemplate her meaning. It was rare that it happened, but she recognized it nonetheless.

Her anxiety grew as he continued with his oppressive silence, and she cleared her throat loudly. His face smoothed out then, wrinkles disappearing and brows rising slightly. His frown evened back into a neutral expression and for some reason, it made her want to bolt.

“I’m tired,” she announced, her voice shaky. “Get off my bed. I’m ready to sleep for the day.” He deliberately fell back, stretching out along the bed and rumpling her comforter. She scowled at the blatant challenge, but secretly thought it was better at diffusing her panic. She didn’t like silent, thoughtful Alucard very much. However, moody, testy Alucard she could deal with. “I mean it,” she stated firmly.

“You’ve been giving yourself airs lately,” he remarked casually, putting his hands behind his head and drawing up one knee. He looked at the ceiling, not at her. “Ordering me around like you have every right to. You seemed to have forgotten _who I am_ , Police Girl.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she muttered. _A vulture_ , she thought with a mental snicker, repeating her earlier thoughts. _In any case, a broody old king._ She tried to ignore how at home he looked on her bed, and how lean he was, and how if she looked closely, she could make out the muscles of his arms through the thin material of his shirt. “Fine, if you want nice,” she sighed. “ _Please_ get off my bed, Alucard. I’ve had a long day.”

“Make me.” The words took her by surprise. She stared at him, her eyes wide. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a sly grin crossing his lips briefly.

“What?” she asked, flabbergasted. Did he really want her to try and push him off the bloody mattress, just so she could get some sleep?! She had the errant thought that if she wanted to, she could go sleep on the couch in the main library. But then she ran the risk of a soldier or staff member seeing her in nothing but a shirt. While she was sure her men might enjoy an eyeful of her bare skin, she wasn’t audacious enough to let just _anyone_ see her half-naked!

“You _think_ you’ve got it in you to hypnotize me?” he asked, and her mind jumped back to their mission. Oh, so _that’s_ what all this was about. She deflated, realizing with a sinking stomach that it was his ego at stake here, not her body. _Not that I’m complaining, of course_ , she thought quickly. _Or… am I?_ Those contradictory feelings rose again in her mind, but she pushed them back.

“Well, come on then. Hypnotize me into getting up off this bed,” he sneered. “I’ll even go easy on you—I’ll lie here very still so you don’t lose your concentration.” He made a show of making himself comfortable, and the urge to punch him throughthe mattress reared in her mind. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone, but it had left the _perfect_ idea in its wake. But the only problem: Was she brave enough to go through with it? For once she started, she couldn’t just stop. She was a creature of pride, too.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. If a taste of her powers was what he wanted, then she was more than happy to give it to him. She wasn’t sure if she really could hypnotize him—and if she did, hold it long enough to get him off the bed—but she had nothing to lose by trying. She mentally prepped herself, ready to pull out all the stops on him. If that’s what it took getting her bed back, and getting him to stop messing with her, then so be it.

She opened her eyes and moved slowly towards her bed, letting her hips sway naturally instead of over-exploiting them. She had found in her experience that her powers worked better if she didn’t lay it on too thick all at once. She tried her best to see herself as a huntress and the man on the bed her prey, but it was hard for her to imagine him being at her mercy (or anyone else’s, for that matter).

He turned his head slightly when he heard her start moving, the self-satisfied smirk still playing on his lips. However, when he caught a glimpse of her, his head turned fully and he openly stared. He rose up on his elbows, hair falling into his face as he watched her silently. She paused, shaking her head, her eyes never leaving his for a moment.

“Uh uh,” she scolded waggishly, crossing her arms. It only accentuated her bust, and she saw his eyes dart to her chest for a split-second; if she had blinked, she’d have missed it. “Y _ou said_ you’d stay still.” His mouth twisted, eyes flashing with impatient anger, but he lay back in his previous position. She watched him for a moment to see if he’d stay put before continuing towards the bed at what felt like a snail’s pace.

Impulse won out over self-preservation, and she threw a leg over his stomach, straddling his hips with her hands on his chest, pinning him down. He lay passively enough, but his eyes never left hers as she smiled sensuously.

“If your plan was to get me off the bed, it’ll be hard to do from that position,” he murmured, never missing a moment to tease. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added when her smile vanished. “On the contrary, I’m enjoying the view.”

“Everything’s going according to plan,” she assured him, using the same low voice she always did whenever she hypnotized someone with her powers. “I told you before.... I can be very persuading.” She bent down, brushing his hair away from his face, distracting him while she determined the best way to… _influence_ his mind. She scrutinized his face; without his hair in his eyes, casting shadows across his face, he looked younger somehow. _Shadows_ …. She got an idea.

The sound of the lock clicking in her door made him look away from her for a split-second. She grinned as her shadows ensured that no one would enter without her permission, summoning the murky tendrils with the ease that decades of practice gave her. They covered the room like a murky, bottomless void, curling up around the bedposts and settling across the furniture in the room like a thick quilt. It twisted up around the lamps and suddenly the light was gone, dropping them both in pitch-black darkness.

In the absence of light, her eyes couldn’t drag in enough to see him even with her supernatural skills. But they were _her_ shadows, and they were nearly like extra limbs. They were attuned to the smallest changes in pressure, they felt the air and moisture of her surroundings, and the most miniscule movement didn’t escape their notice.

If he had been a human, she could have felt every drop of sweat on his skin, the timbre of his heart’s individual chambers, the quickening in his pulse, and even the hormones he secreted in his panic. She’d have been able to _taste_ his fear. And who wouldn’t have been afraid? He’d have been a scared little human, no stronger than a mouse caught in a python’s grasp.

But he wasn’t a human, and even with a predator pinning him down in pitch darkness, he wasn’t even nervous. Seras would have laughed if he was—as dark a soul as his, this was probably how he preferred things. Still, she allowed her shadows to roam over his form, running beneath his sleeves and up over his chest, feeding her information about what he _was_ feeling.

The rush of endorphins flowing from his pores told her she was that much closer to getting what she wanted. She felt his muscles tense, and then relax nearly as fast. Was he lulling her into a false sense of security? She wasn’t oblivious to the danger of her present position; he could turn change his chemical makeup, rebuild his limbs, and so much more—who was to say he wasn’t tricking her at this very moment?

She ran her hands up to his shoulders, leaning down and feeling her way in the darkness. She grazed his neck with her fangs and felt him tense again beneath her fingers, hard enough that a tremor ran down his arms. He swallowed hard, but not once did he move to grab her.

“What’s the matter?” she whispered against his skin. “Don’t you want to touch me?” Her voice was a parody of his; suave, dark, and bordering the line between playful and derisive. It sounded loud in the room; it was the only sound other than their combined breathing.

“Do _you_ want me to touch you?” he asked in the same tone, a smug, but tight-lipped grin working its way across his face. She peered at him out of the corner of her eye, trying in vain to see in the darkness of her own shades. She couldn’t, and finally she broke up her shadows enough that it was still dark, but the light from the room did manage to trickle in.

“How generous of you to ask,” she replied, keeping her voice low and sultry. “Do you _really_ want to know? What I’d like more than anything else right now?” she continued, rising up and shaking back her hair, smiling at him with half-lidded eyes. He raised his eyebrows in silent query, his eyes never leaving the sight suspended above him as his gazed roved over her body.

“I want to get you off,” she told him, watching with satisfaction as his eyes lit up with a dark craving. He leaned up and she caressed his shoulders before pulling off an old grappling move one of the Wild Geese had taught her before he retired. She yanked him out from beneath her, rolling and using his weight against him as she maneuvered him over her body.

With nothing to stop him he fell to the floor, and she leaned back against her pillows, legs crossed with an arrogant smirk. “Get you off my bed, that is,” she crowed, crossing her arms behind her head and cackling with self-righteous pleasure as she banished her shadows back to the corners of the room, uncovering everything and turning it back to the way it was supposed to be.

“What was _that_?” Alucard snarled, getting to his feet. His hair slowly lengthened of its own accord, face twisted in anger, shadows climbing around his body and dancing to the uneven beat of his rage. She stretched out on the bed, not minding the fact that she was wearing nothing more than a shirt, letting it ride up her stomach. It only helped in this situation, she was sure. He was beyond pissed, but she could see a mingled desire and fury in his eyes—a strange combination, to say the least.

“Don’t get mad at me,” she said plainly. “You told me to hypnotize you off the bed, and I did.”

“That was _not_ hypnosis,” he argued, his voice little more than a savage growl. She grinned haughtily.

“What’s better to say: that you were hypnotized by me, or…” she fluttered her lashes mockingly, the perfect parody of a coquettish pin-up poster, “you let yourself be seduced by a plain, obscure, weak little police girl?” He didn’t answer right away, and she arched a brow triumphantly. “Besides, I _was_ using my powers on you. I’m just incredibly subtle.”

“Liar.” She sat up now, thoroughly offended.

“I’m not lying!” She stood up, balancing precariously on the squishy mattress. It helped height-wise; she was looking down at him, hand on her hips. “I only did it enough to make your judgment cloudy, anyway. I knew I couldn’t _really_ hypnotize you unless you wanted me to. I’m not stupid, you know.” She smirked again. “Anything else you felt was all your own doing. I can’t help it if you find me sexy.”

She knew she was playing with fire; Alucard was about to respond, his shadows already flashing up towards her quick as lightening. She refused to cringe, knowing that if he wanted to hurt her, flinching wouldn’t help her case any. Besides, she might deserve it; getting his hopes up (as well as other things) and then doing nothing more than shoving him off the bed.

But before he or his shadowy tendrils touched her, he turned to the door with a frown and then disappeared without so much as a peep as to why. A moment later, a brisk knock had comprehension flooding her mind. Only one person ever knocked that loudly, as if wanting to bang the door down for some imagined offense.

“Come in, Sir!” Integra opened the door, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead the result of walking down the basement stairs and a paper in her hand. “You should have called me up to your office,” Seras chided gently. “You’ll have a heart attack one of these days while you’re trying to get down those stairs.”

“Oh, shut up,” Integra panted, her one good eye still piercing despite her age and the wrinkles. Seras didn’t mind them at all—she could still see the memory of the young woman beneath the sun spots and silver hair. Being elderly was a beautiful thing to witness, if you knew you would never be able to reach it yourself. “I’m not going to die just because I walked down some stairs.”

“If you fell down them and broke your neck having a heart attack, then you’d die,” Seras pointed out, always the devil’s advocate. “What did you need, anyway?” She asked, jumping into a seated position on the bed. Integra frowned at the childish antic, but didn’t say a word about it.

“You have a discrepancy in your written report,” she said curtly, still eyeing the rumpled bed sheets and cross-legged, half-clad Draculina with a disapproving air. She maintained the courtesy that what Seras did in her bedroom was not any of her business, but at times she couldn’t help but wonder if the vampiress had things going on she didn’t want to know about. After all, the girl looked and acted like a delinquent daughter sometimes, even though she was really only a few years younger than Integra herself!

“What?” Seras gasped, honestly surprised. She hadn’t had a bad report in ages—it had to have been _decades_ since anything noteworthy had popped up in her reports. She practiced perfect grammar, cross-referenced herself when necessary, and even went to other soldiers to make sure what she said was the absolute truth from _their_ standpoint as well.

“I’m afraid so,” Integra said, stepping further into the room. “You have a clear inconsistency with Alucard’s report, actually. About what exactly happened to the chandelier…” she trailed off, frowning. “Well, that and Alucard’s insistence that you “flaunted her body and managed to hypnotize the maître d’ by some stroke of luck”, but I’m willing to put that down as Alucard being Alucard.”

“I didn’t flaunt anything,” she muttered. “Other than the fact that I don’t have to parade my assets around in the open in order to get people to do what I want.” Integra chuckled.

“I’m sure he meant something along the lines of “she did extremely well and I’m too headstrong to admit it in a formal report”,” she said. “In any case, you both can figure it out and revise it tomorrow evening; I understand that it’s early in the day, and you’d probably like to get some rest.” She nodded and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Seras listened to the sound of her walking down the hall, and then the slow ascension of the stairs. Once, she could easily get up and down them without stopping once, but now she stopped twice on the way up before finally making it to the ground floor of the manor. Seras sighed, feeling the older woman’s burden. Growing old might be beautiful, but it sure as hell didn’t seem fun.

“ _Tsk_ _tsk_ , Police Girl,” a voice sounded near her ear. She jumped in shock—had he been hiding in the wall the entire time? “Telling such tall tales,” he tutted, coming out of the wall and tumbling onto the bed in a way that somehow managed to be elegant. “Are you embarrassed to tell our master that you were showing off your body?”

“I wasn’t!” she hissed, batting at him with one hand. “I did not show anything off. You’re just mad that I didn’t show more off to _you_.”

“That’s the second time you’ve insisted that tonight,” he growled, moving to grab her. She twisted away, but wasn’t as lucky the second time. “And don’t think I’ve already forgotten that little _move_ you did earlier. Our conversation wasn’t over.”

“I think it was,” she countered, wriggling like an eel to evade his shadows. “You were angry, you said I lied, I said I didn’t. What’s more to say?” He managed to pin her down, nearly sitting on her legs to keep her from squirming away. “I really don’t know how I can convince you that I didn’t lie!” she shouted when she realized she couldn’t move, her voice strained from the effort of wrenching even one hand away from his shadows.

“Easy,” he answered, his complacent attitude returning in the wake of his anger. “Do it again.”

“Excuse me?” she blurted out, eyes widening. “You want me to _do it again_?” she repeated incredulously. He nodded, completely serious.

“If you really did hypnotize me, you’d easily be able to do it again,” he stated. “But this time, I’m not going to stay still.” She took a deep breath, shaking her head firmly when he looked expectantly at her.

“I’m _not_ doing it again,” she proclaimed. “I’m going to bed.”

“Shame, since I’m not moving off this bed until you do.” Her furious glare made his grin widen to the point it looked as though his face might split in two. Then, as quick as it was there, her anger was seemingly gone.

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Goodnight then.” She burrowed beneath the covers, a shadowy tendril flicking the switch and plunging the room into darkness. She felt him shift on the bed, and then a solid warmth pressed into her back.

“I won’t be ignored,” he purred in her ear. She couldn’t fight back the shiver that ran down her spine, but resisted the urge to pull away.

“I’m not ignoring you,” she whispered back, somehow comforted by his heavy presence coupled with the darkness of the room. It felt… nice, actually. She thought she’d be crowded, but she wasn’t in the slightest. “I’m just going to sleep. You said you’d stay on the bed; I’m fine with that.” Lips pressed against her neck, softly nipping at her nape and she shivered again. “Stop that.”

“Make me.” Déjà vu reeled in her mind and she sighed, giving up.

“Fine,” she muttered into her pillow. “Do what you want. I’m really too tired to stop you.” She felt him shift again and then he was under the blankets too, his leg wrapping around hers as he settled down.

“Sleep then,” he crooned, and she was happy he couldn’t see her eye roll in the dark. “But this evening, we—”

“We have to fix our report for Sir Integra,” she interrupted, nearly dozing.

“She’ll just have to wait,” he snapped, but the sound was lacking with the edge of sleep in his voice as well. “I will not have you doing anything until you pay for what you did tonight.”

“Whatever,” she retorted faintly, eyes closing. There was a long silence, and then he yawned. Her weary mind pointed out the fact that she’d never heard him yawn before, and something about it struck her as funny. She smiled to herself, feeling that Pip was already asleep in his own sliver of her psyche. Alucard let out a low breath, moving her hair and tickling the underside of her jaw, but she was too tired to even reach up and scratch it.

When she woke up, he might still be there and he might not. She might get beat up and thrown off her own bed, and she might not. She just might even take him up on his offer to hypnotize him again, but she might not.

Right now, she’d just lay here and sleep, enjoying her unlife one day at a time.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Afterword: Microsoft Word lovingly reminded me that I’ve been working on this oneshot since Halloween night (of 2014) at 11:58 p.m. I consider finishing it a personal victory, considering my great record of finishing the stories I create. (._. ) Yeah….


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